


Hanging State

by CrunchyWrites



Series: Learning on Parameters (aka Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things) [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role (Wildemount Campaign)
Genre: Aftercare, Blowjobs, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, D/s dynamic, Dom!Molly, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safewords, but apparently I cant write anything without adding in ~~~feelings~~~, discussions of safewords, look this was meant to be a quick and easy smut fic, sub!Caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: After several months in a relationship with Molly, Caleb has come to the realisation that nothing is going to happen unless he himself initiates it.Which really is a bit of a problem, because while he would very much like for something to happen, he is also incredibly skilled at denying himself the things he wants.





	Hanging State

Caleb is the one who caves first, because he has to be.

It’s been several months since the incident at the mine in Alfield, and Caleb has come to realise that he has never met anyone as good and kind and gentle as Molly. He’d thought he’d discovered the depths of it then, when Molly had sat with him in his room and spoken with him and distracted him and helped him as best he could until Caleb felt like himself again, but he hadn’t known then, or even when they moved from allies into their careful, tentative relationship, just how far Molly’s goodness went.

Molly’s so careful with him, for all that he never treats Caleb differently to how he would any of the others. He never pulls his punches, never avoids confronting problem, never treats Caleb like he might shatter under the wrong word or the wrong event but at the same time he’s so, so careful that it makes Caleb’s heart ache.

Molly never does anything without Caleb’s consent. Ever. It doesn’t matter what it is – even if he’s just reaching out to take Caleb’s hand under the table at an inn he’ll make sure to brush his fingers against the back of Caleb’s hand first, glance over at him with a raised eyebrow and a curious, questioning look that asks as clearly as any words _are you okay with this?_ , and will only proceed when Caleb gives his own nearly imperceptible nod back. It’s a tiny thing, but Caleb appreciates it more than he knows how to put into words – he feels _safe_ with Molly, safer than he does with anyone else, and he’s knows it’s in no small way due to how Molly treats him. There’s never the concern of something he doesn’t want to happen happening, there’s never the worry that Molly will do something that will in some way draw attention to him. There’s just Molly, patient and understanding and respecting of every single one of Caleb’s numerous strange, overlapping boundaries, and Caleb doesn’t think he’s ever felt this comfortable around someone.

It’s nice.

It’s definitely extremely, very, undeniably nice.

It is also a tiny bit of a problem.

Caleb knows himself, and he knows that he is not a brave man. He’s always at the back of the party in combat, is always the one to suggest doing anything possible to avoid confrontation and conflict, and even now with Molly he is… afraid. Afraid of _what_ he doesn’t know, but the worry is there all the same, lingering under his skin and along the lines of his bones. It is only really because of Molly and Molly’s gentle, quiet questions and suggestions and actions that they’ve even gone further than a few quick kisses traded safely out of sight of the others, and Caleb knows that this is already more than he has ever deserved but he wants more all the same.

He wants a lot of things. In the darkness and silence and safety of his tent he’s let himself imagine, has wrapped a hand around himself and imagined that it was Molly’s hand or Molly’s mouth, has brought himself to completion with thoughts of the tiefling’s sharp smile and soft hands and clever tongue. Lying in the silence afterwards he’s wondered time and again if it truly is so hard, if it really is so very difficult for him to find Mollymauk and tell him what he wants, but every time the sun has risen and brought with it the one trump card of his anxiety and fears:

_You do not deserve this_.

Caleb Widogast is not a brave man, and Molly is determined to take things exactly at Caleb’s pace. All of which means, of course, that Caleb has come to the realisation that nothing is going to happen unless he himself initiates it.

Which is a bit of a problem, really, because while he would very much _like_ for something to happen, he is also incredibly skilled at denying himself the things he wants. And he wants this, he really does; he’s woken half-hard to thoughts of it on more than one occasion, but every time he thinks he’s ready to ask Molly, to tell him that he wants to take things a little further, he looks at Molly’s beauty and Molly’s gentleness and Molly’s effortless, easy confidence, and thinks to himself again _I do not deserve this_.

Anxiety and desire can only battle for so long, though, and eventually one of them has to give.

It’s several months down the line when Caleb finally caves. They’re sitting with the party in a tavern somewhere, still riding the post-battle high, and Caleb can still feel his magic fresh and lightning-sharp in his veins when he looks over at Molly and sees the shadows clinging to his collarbones and the light shining off his jewellery, watches as he throws his head back and laughs uproariously at something that Beau just said, and thinks _now_.

And thinks _I want him_.

They’re not sitting next to each other but it’s the work of a moment for Caleb to figure out where Molly’s legs are under the table and reach out to nudge Molly’s foot with his own. Molly doesn’t look over at him immediately, still maintaining his conversation with Beau, but under the table Caleb feels Molly’s leg shift until their calves are pressing together, creating a single point of contact and warmth, and after a few more seconds Molly glances in Caleb’s direction, one eyebrow slightly raised as punctuation to his unspoken question; _What is it?_

Caleb doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to respond, even at the best of times, and while he is for once feeling uncommonly brave he still doesn’t know how best to convey to Molly what exactly he wants without the rest of the party hearing it as well, which would definitely _not_ be a good thing. Caleb can hardly bear being the centre of attention now – he doesn’t dare to imagine what it’d be like if they knew what was going on between him and Molly. He’s sure they’d be respectful, and he’s sure Molly would be as seemingly carefree and comfortable as he always is, but Caleb… Caleb would suffer, and he knows it.

So he catches Molly’s eye, flicks his gaze upwards in the direction of their rooms, and says nothing.

Across the table from him Molly’s mouth curves in a knowing smile, and Caleb feels heat start to settle in his gut.

He is doing this. He is going to do this. His magic feels bright and sharp beneath his skin and he feels almost at the edge of confidence for once, buoyed up by the delight and confidence and success he can practically _feel_ radiating off Nott and Jester and Beau and Fjord and Yasha. They are strong and powerful and he may not be of the same calibre, may not be half as brave as they all are, but he is brave enough.

He is brave enough.

He is going to do this.

“I’m going upstairs to bed,” he says, and stands abruptly. He knows that from any of the others his brusqueness could be considered rude, but by now they’re all well accustomed to his social uncertainties and after a quick round of them all wishing him a good night he’s free to leave the table and retreat upstairs with no further questions.

He doesn’t look at Molly when he leaves, but he feels the tiefling’s red eyes through the heavy fabric of his coat all the same.

It doesn’t take long for Molly to join him. To Caleb, pacing nervously behind the shut door of his room it feels close to an eternity, though he knows it to be no longer than ten minutes. He hears Molly’s approaching footsteps before he sees him and when the door slowly opens a moment later Caleb is standing facing it, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Hey,” Molly says, stepping inside and quietly shutting the door behind him, “You alright?”

Caleb nods. He can’t speak. He knows that Molly knows, if not what he actively wants then at the very least what he’s implying, but Molly, being Molly, isn’t going to act on it until Caleb says or does something. And Caleb cannot speak right now.

So he acts instead.

He steps forwards, and presses his lips to Molly’s. His hands rise, one settling on the curve of Molly’s hip as the other moves to gently cradle Molly’s face, and there is no hesitation before Molly starts kissing him back.

“Hey,” Molly murmurs again, and the word is muffled against Caleb’s mouth but it sounds warm all the same, sounds warm and comforting and so wonderfully, _wonderfully_ familiar. Their lips slide together, all effortless and easy, and it only takes the tentative press of Caleb’s tongue to the seam of Molly’s lips for Molly’s mouth to open under his.

It’s _easy_.

Kissing Molly is easy now, and familiar. They’ve been going slowly but they’ve kissed often enough that Caleb knows how best to tilt his head to get the best angle, knows just how to stroke his tongue across Molly’s for Molly to give those sweet, quiet little gasps that he loves, knows that he loves nothing better than the feeling of Molly’s hands settling on his waist, keeping him close and stable and grounded. Caleb is a quick study, and it has been no hardship on his part to study Molly.

“Hey,” he breathes, and when Molly’s hands tug at his waist he steps closer instantly.

“Hey there, handsome,” Molly replies, and leans back just enough so that he can look at Caleb and give him a curious smile. “You gonna tell me why you wanted me up here?”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Caleb replies. It would be a lie to say that he feels no shame in admitting that, but he feels little enough that he can push it away and ignore it for now. Kissing Molly is okay. _Wanting_ to kiss Molly is okay. Kissing Molly is familiar and easy and Caleb will not let his own self-loathing take it away from him.

In front of him Molly tilts his head, and Caleb watches as his soft smile turns into something more akin to a knowing smirk.

“I think you wanted to do more than just kiss me,” Molly says, and grins wider when he sees Caleb flush.

 “I-“ _I did_.

“I mean, I’m definitely not opposed to that, if that’s what you want. Or, y’know, or not. That’s fine too.”

“No,” Caleb says quickly, “No, no, I wanted…”

Molly looks at him, lifts an eyebrow curiously.

For a few moments, Caleb can only stammer. “I had- I wanted-“ His throat is dry, and he can’t get the words out. Molly waits for a few moments, but when it becomes clear that Caleb isn’t going to be saying much more he speaks up.

“What did you want me to do, Caleb?” There’s no judgement in his tone, no force or pressure to answer – the question is presented simply, and it’s so, so easy for Caleb to think ahead to the next few seconds and know exactly what he wants Molly to do.

“Just kiss me,” he says, “please.”

“Well how can I say no when you ask so prettily?” Molly teases, and Caleb feels himself flush red and hot under his gaze. He tilts his head up, says nothing more, and is rewarded shortly after by Molly’s lips on his own. Caleb melts into the contact, loses himself to the slick slide of Molly’s lips and tongue against his own, and doesn’t know how much time passes before Molly speaks again, the words soft and muffled against his mouth.

“What do you want?” Molly asks, and Caleb’s answer is immediate.

“ _You_.”

Molly laughs against his lips. “You’ve already got me, love, but I’m pretty certain you want more than just kisses.” He pulls away, glances down, glances up, and Caleb didn’t think it was possible for his face to grow hotter but apparently it is. He’s not fully hard yet but he’s getting there, and it’s clear that Molly can feel the length of him starting to press against his hip. “What do you want _right now_?” Molly continues, and Caleb swallows.

“I- I want-“ Caleb feels the words cut themselves off in his throat, and suddenly he feels cold all over. He can’t do this. He _can’t do this_. He doesn’t deserve any of this, has no right to be asking Molly even for kisses, let alone anything else, has no right to even be this close to Molly, and he _should not be doing this._

But it seems like the rumours Caleb once heard about tieflings being psychic may actually be true, because the thoughts have only a few moments to twist through his mind before Molly kisses him again, swift and warm, and Caleb feels them start to quieten.

“Caleb,” Molly says softly, “Love. It’s alright.” He leans in, presses a fleeting kiss to Caleb’s lips, and Caleb chases after the contact. “Whatever you want, I’m here. I _want_ to be here.”

“But I-“ Caleb starts, and Molly quickly cuts him off again.

“You’re allowed to want nice things, Caleb,” he says, and starts kissing a constellation against the curve of Caleb’s jaw.

One sentence should not have such an effect on him.

It shouldn’t, and yet it does, because no longer are the words out of Molly’s mouth than Caleb’s thoughts quieten even further. He may not believe he’s allowed to want this but it seems that Molly does, and by now Caleb trusts Molly more than he trusts even himself.

And if Molly thinks that Caleb is allowed to want this, then perhaps, just possibly, he really is.

“What do you want?” Molly asks again, his words a murmur pressed to Caleb’s throat, and Caleb can feel his lips against his skin when he swallows.

“ _You_.”

“Mm, you said that already. I need more detail here, love.”

“I want-…“

“What?”

“…”

“You can say it, sweetheart.”

“I can’t.”

Caleb cannot see Molly’s grin, but he can feel it. “Say it, Caleb. Tell me.” There’s power under his words; an undercurrent of command that kindles the fire slowly building in Caleb’s gut, but it’s not enough. It feels- it feels _wrong_ to say the words he wants to say, to admit to himself what he wants, and Caleb grits his teeth together and presses his head back against the wall of the room and doesn’t let his thoughts linger on how Molly’s teeth scrape sharp and harsh and _perfect_ over his jugular.

“I _can’t_ , Molly.”

“Why not?”

_Scheiße._ “I can’t- I shouldn’t-“

“You shouldn’t want this? Is that what this is?”

“No.” _Yes_. He shouldn’t want this. Not because he thinks it to be sinful or wrong – and Caleb doesn’t think that, he never could, he has loved men for as long as he has known love – but because it is not something that he deserves.

He doesn’t deserve this.

He doesn’t deserve to have Molly pressed up against his front like this, doesn’t deserve to hear all the soft, absent pet-names that Molly keeps casting his way. He doesn’t deserve the care and the affection and the endless, endless patience that Molly seems to have for him, for his hold-ups and his issues and _everything_ , and yet…

And yet, here Molly is all the same.

Caleb can feel tears start gathering at the corners of his eyes, and does nothing to try and stop their escape. Molly, stars bless him, does not comment.

“What do you want, Caleb?” he asks again, and his voice is achingly, heart-breakingly soft.

“I _can’t_.” It’s barely a sentence, barely a whisper, but Molly hears it all the same. He hums, flickers his tongue out and tastes the salt on Caleb skin, and Caleb _sobs_. “Please, bitte, _Molly_ …”

“ _Tell me,_ Caleb.”

He can’t. He _can’t_. But Molly will not let him be till he does.

Caleb pulls in a breath and feels it rattling around his lungs. He’s still trembling, is still caught on the cusp of tears, and he has to draw several more half-formed, shattering breaths before he feels like he can speak fully.

When he does, the words are so faint he can barely hear them himself.

“I want you to suck my cock…”

He can’t look. He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head up, trying not to focus too hard on the pressure that lifts from his throat. He can feel no more warm breath there, can feel no more sign of Molly’s presence against his neck, but barely a moment passes before there’s a hand cupping his cheek, and Caleb opens his eyes again entirely on instinct.

Molly stands before him still, grinning and sharp-eyed and _delighted_. Caleb can see it, can _feel_ it in the gentle way that Molly’s cupping his face, and thinks he might dissolve into his magic at any moment just from the feelings that are clawing under the surface of his skin.

“Good boy,” Molly says, and presses a searing kiss to Caleb’s lips.

And Caleb feels himself start to come undone.

He reaches for Mollymauk with blind, trembling hands, and curls them in whatever bits of fabric are nearest. Molly’s lips on his own are hot and slick and perfect and it is not the first time Caleb has felt them but he feels like it may as well be because he no longer knows how to think. All he knows is Molly, and Molly’s warmth and Molly’s lips and _oh_ , Molly’s clever hands, skating down his chest and brushing over his nipples with a contact that’s almost too light to be felt but that makes Caleb whimper into Molly’s mouth all the same. Molly catches the sound, grins against Caleb’s lips, and repeats the action, does it again and again until Caleb’s gasping, trembling against him from that simple touch alone.

“You like that?” Molly murmurs, and it’s all Caleb can do to nod desperately before he leans back in to kiss Molly some more.

Molly’s kisses are _addictive_. The tiefling is talented with his tongue in more ways than one, and to have all of his attention focused solely on Caleb only seems to enhance that skill. Molly kisses him deep, open-mouthed and hot and _burning_ and it’s all Caleb can do to remember to breathe, to keep his hands twisted up in the fine material of Molly’s shirt and hold him close and try, occasionally, to reciprocate somewhat. Molly’s tongue is forked and it only adds to the sensation, pushing things damn close to overwhelming from these kisses alone – it doesn’t take long until Caleb is shaking against Molly, pressing as close as he can while still leaving space for Molly’s hands to run along his chest and sides and down over the curve of his ass, tugging him in closer and grinning against Caleb’s lips when Caleb’s hips grind up to meet him.

“ _Molly_ ,” Caleb gasps, tightening his hands in Molly’s shirt. He knows he will likely leave wrinkles in it come morning, but he cannot bring himself to care.

“Patience,” Molly hums in reply, “All in good time. Let me look after you.” He presses a kiss to Caleb’s lips, another when he feels Caleb chase after the contact, and then in one swift, fluid movement he sinks down to his knees before Caleb and curls his hands around Caleb’s thighs.

Suddenly, it all becomes very real.

_This is happening_ , Caleb thinks, and has to stifle a bubble of manic, nervous laughter. _This is happening. I was brave and I asked and now – oh, Gods – now this is happening_. He watches as Molly leans in closer, his breath ghosting over the bulge of Caleb’s erection, and Caleb thinks that the reverent look in Molly’s eyes would be enough to tempt any cleric to sin.

“Well, hello there,” Molly murmurs, and after the briefest of glances back up at Caleb he reaches out and presses his hand to Caleb’s still-clothed dick.

Caleb _groans_.

It’s a tiny touch, but already Caleb can feel all of his thoughts start to orbit it like a star. At the sound of his groan Molly glances up again, a smile curving at the corners of his mouth, and he runs his hand along Caleb’s cock, leans in closer so that Caleb can feel the warmth of his breath even through the layer of fabric that separates them. It’s tantalising, a teasing hint of what’s yet to come, and Caleb feels his mouth grow dry as he watches Molly’s fingers flex and curl around his cock to start rubbing him through his breeches.

And then, quite abruptly, things shift from _good_ to _awful_.

“Molly,” Caleb says suddenly, before he can stop himself, “Molly, stop, stop stop stop, _please_ -“

It’s _too much_. It’s too much and it’s too good and Caleb doesn’t deserve any of it, hasn’t done anything to earn something this good and this nice, but all the same when Molly pulls back, dropping his hands to his lap, Caleb feels himself whine from somewhere deep in his throat.

“You alright?” Molly says, all soft and concerned, and Caleb doesn’t know how to respond. He nods, because he _is_ , he really is, he wants this is and it’s _so damn good_ , but then a moment later he shakes his head as well.

Molly’s expression, faintly worried but still so, so gentle, doesn’t waver at all. “Do you need me to slow down?”

Caleb shakes his head again. “No,” he mutters, “No, that’s not it, I-…“

“Do you still want this? It’s alright if you don’t anymore, Caleb – you can always change your mind.”

Caleb groans. “ _Nein_ , no, I want this, I’m- I just- I-…” He doesn’t know what to say. How is he meant to encapsulate everything that’s happening inside his skull and deliver it to Molly in neat little packages of words when even he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening? He knows that he wants this, that he really, truly does, knows that he cares for Molly and that Molly cares for him and that this is _fine_ , that everything is _fine_ , but he just can’t seem to stop himself from saying what he does.

He can’t seem to stop trying to get Molly to stop, even if it’s the very opposite of what he wants.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and lifts a hand to brush tears from the corners of his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Molly replies easily, “We can make this work. Let me just- we’ll figure this out.” There’s a pause, and then Molly asks again, “You want this, right? You want me to blow you? Just nod if you don’t feel you can say it.”

Caleb nods, and Molly smiles up at him.

“Alright,” Molly says, “Good. So we know that everything’s above-board and consensual here. But for some reason – and we can talk about it later if you want, or not if you don’t want to – for some reason, your actions and your wants seem to be on… well, they seem to be on different pages at the moment. Would you say that’s a fair way of putting it?”

Caleb nods again. It’s the perfect way of putting it.

“Alright,” Molly mutters, seemingly more to himself than to Caleb, and falls silent.

For a moment, there’s no sound in the room beyond Caleb’s ragged breaths.

“Do you know the colour system?” Molly asks suddenly, and then continues the moment he sees Caleb’s expression. “Well, it’s a simple little thing you can use during sex – or at other times, really – to make sure that you and your partner are both on the same page, you know? Some people will tell their partner to stop a lot without actually _wanting_ them to, so if their partner knows that if they _actually_ want them to stop they’ll use another word it makes things much easier. All things considered, it seems it could be pretty handy for us here. You following?”

“…Yeah.”

“Alright, good. So, it’s really simple – green means ‘I’m great, keep going, everything’s fine’, yellow means ‘I need to slow things down a little but I don’t want to stop yet’, and red is full-on ‘stop everything right now.’” Molly looks up Caleb, eyes glinting in the light, and smiles. It’s a soft smile, far gentler than many of the ones he’s cast Caleb’s way recently, and it makes whatever tension or worry is left over in Caleb’s body dissipate entirely. “You got that?”

Caleb nods. It’s a simple system to understand, and he completely sees why Molly thinks it’s necessary for them – he’s sure that if he were in Molly’s position, all roles reversed, watching Molly shake and tremble and _cry_ would be more than enough to convince him that something was truly, desperately wrong and he should stop everything _now_. Really, he’s somewhat surprised that Molly _hasn’t_ stopped things entirely yet, but he’s certainly not complaining – for all that he is shaking and crying and telling Molly to stop and generally giving the impression that he’s not enjoying things it really couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Because he is enjoying things. Very much. And if he’s going to keep on crying because he still feels, very quietly and very certainly in the depths of his heart, that he doesn’t deserve this, well… the colours will definitely come in handy then.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, and green for go,” he murmurs to himself, and the smile he gets from Molly in return is swift and happy and brighter than the sun.

“You’ve got it,” Molly says, and after a moment’s pause he adds, “What are they in Zemnian?”

Caleb frowns. “…Why would you need to know that?” He has no issues in telling Molly the translation, of course, but he is undeniably curious as to _why_ the tiefling would need it.

Molly shrugs. “People revert back to their mother tongue when they’re being fucked sometimes. It happens. And while it really is quite _unspeakably_ sexy, it doesn’t actually help me understand how you’re doing.”

Caleb contemplates this. He’s not aware if it’s something he’s likely to do but he knows it’s definitely possible – he slips back into Zemnian all the time, and although a lot of it is intentional there have definitely been instances when it hasn’t been. If this is something that they’re going to be doing – and, part of his brain supplies, hopefully doing _again_ – then he understands the reasoning behind Molly’s request.

He clears his throat. “Red is, uh, _rot_.”

Molly nods. “ _Rot_ ,” he says, his accent distorting the word atrociously, and Caleb fights back a bubble of laughter. “Got it. What’s yellow?”

“ _Gelb_.”

“And green?”

“ _Grün_.”

Molly smiles. “ _Rot, gelb, grün,_ ” he repeats, and Caleb cannot help but smile back at him. His Zemnian accent is _awful_ but it’s endearing all the same, because in a way it shows how much he cares.

And Molly very clearly cares a _lot_. He cares about their friends and their companions and other people not going cold or hungry, and he cares about Caleb. He cares about Caleb so much that sometimes it genuinely catches him by surprise, because to say that Caleb is not accustomed to pleasantness is the understatement of the century.

Molly cares so much it makes Caleb’s heart hurt. He cares enough to want to make sure that no matter what happens, he’ll still be able to know when Caleb _actually_ wants to stop things, regardless of what language he’s speaking in.

The thought makes something warm curl around Caleb’s heart, but it’s no longer an unfamiliar feeling. It’s one he’s come to recognise well, ever since that night after the mines, but much like he has every time he’s felt it before he does his level best to push it aside. It is something he can deal with later.

“ _Rot, gelb, grün,”_ Caleb repeats again, and nods when Molly murmurs them back to himself. His accent’s improved a little bit even in this short space of time, but it’s still a far cry from convincing anyone he’s a fluent – let alone native – speaker. But it’s enough. He knows what he’s listening for, and that’s more than Caleb ever would have expected.

“Okay,” Molly says, giving a sharp nod that makes the jewellery adorning his horns jingle quietly, “I’ve got them. Could I get a colour from you now, love? In Zemnian, if you wouldn’t mind. I want to challenge myself.”

“ _Grün_ ,” Caleb replies instantly. He doesn’t have to think to answer that – for all he’s been sobbing and sniffling and generally giving the impression that he’s not enjoying the situation he’s really been more than delighted – more than _ecstatic_ – at everything that’s been happening so far. He wants it to continue. He wants Molly to keep kissing him and touching him and looking at him like he’s precious, like he’s _worth_ something, and while he still cannot say those thoughts aloud it is much, much easier to translate them all into a single colour.

“ _Grün_. Green,” Molly translates, “Wonderful.” He looks up at Caleb, smiles sharp and bright and _hot_ , and turns his head to press a kiss to Caleb’s thigh. Even through the fabric of his breeches the contact burns. “Remember,” Molly continues, “anytime you want to stop, _any_ time, no matter what’s going on or how far we’ve gone, you just say ‘red’ or ‘ _rot’_ , alright? You’re in control.”

Caleb swallows. “Yeah,” he says, “Got it.”

“That’s my good boy,” Molly says, and Caleb feels the words settle warm around his heart. “You ready to get back to it?”

“Yeah.”

“No time like the present,” Molly quips, and reaches for the ties of Caleb’s breeches. He unlaces them with deft, clever fingers, the contact fleeting and light but still enough for Caleb to just barely feel it, and Caleb cannot make himself look away. It still feels wrong to have this, still feels wrong to be looking down at Mollymauk and at the light that catches off the jewellery that adorns his horns and know that everything Molly is doing he is doing for Caleb.

Because Molly is… Molly is _better_. He’s better than Caleb, braver and kinder and softer and gentler and simply better in every way. He presents himself as brash and loud and, frankly, a little obnoxious, but beneath it all he has a heart as golden as any of the bands that adorn his fingers and horns.  And for some absurd, unthinkable reason, he has decided to open his heart to Caleb.

It’s baffling. There’s no good reason that Caleb can think of for Molly to still be here, to still be wanting to be close to Caleb, to be actively wanting to kiss him and hold him and encourage him to do all these things that he has absolutely no right to ask of him, and yet… and yet Molly is still here, kneeling on the floor as he undoes the last ties of Caleb’s breeches with a look on his face like he’s opening a gift, and then his fingers slip inside Caleb’s smallclothes and all Caleb’s thoughts leave his mind in a rush.

“Oh,” Molly says, smirking, “ _Someone’s_ happy to see me.”

Caleb groans. “Don’t say that…” he mutters, and Molly laughs.

“Why not?” he asks, “You saying that isn’t the case?”

“I- well- no…”

“So what’s the issue?”

“It just sounds _bad_ ,” Caleb says, and Molly laughs again.

“It does,” he agrees.

“So why did you say it?”

“Oh, y’know. To see you squirm.”

Caleb groans again, and leans his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes.

“’Course,” Molly continues, “There are other ways to see you squirm. Like this.” And with that he withdraws his hand from Caleb’s smallclothes, licks a long stripe along his palm, and wraps his hand back around Caleb’s cock in a matter of seconds.

For a moment, Caleb feels his knees threaten to give out.

“Oh,” he gasps, “ _Oh_.” Molly’s hand is sliding slick and tight along Caleb’s cock, and it’s all he can do to remember to breathe. After a few moments Molly leans in closer, his forked tongue flicking out to trace circles on the head of Caleb’s cock, and Caleb feels his knees threaten to buckle.

“Caleb,” Molly murmurs, pausing in his ministrations to instead start pressing kisses to Caleb’s cock, his hips, the soft skin on the inside of his thighs, “Love. You’re stunning.” His tongue swipes over the head of Caleb’s cock again and Caleb whimpers, lifts a hand to muffle the sound before dropping it to Molly’s shoulder. He needs to touch, needs to give himself something to physically, tangibly hold onto, but he doesn’t know _where_. He takes Molly’s shoulder because it’s close and _safe_ , but Molly seems to take the touch as guidance, because Caleb’s hand is only resting there for the space of a breath before Molly chuckles a little under his breath and turns all of his attention back towards Caleb’s cock. He tongues over the slit, traces the thick vein with his tongue, and right when Caleb is about to start begging for him to stop teasing and _do something_ he parts his lips and takes Caleb’s cock into his mouth.

It’s so much better than any fantasy.

Caleb had thought that his active imagination would’ve been able to at least somewhat estimate what a blowjob from Molly would be like, but what he’d come up with in the twilight hours has nothing on the reality of it. Molly’s mouth is slick and hot and so good it almost _hurts_ , in a bone-deep way that has nothing at all to do with actual pain, and he’s got his hand curled around what bit of Caleb’s cock isn’t in his mouth, palm slick enough with spittle and precum to remove any friction.

Molly dips his head lower, takes Caleb’s cock until Caleb thinks he can feel himself nudging against the back of Molly’s throat, and he _groans_. It’s so good. It’s too good. It’s too good and it’s too much and it’s not enough and when Molly peers up at him from between his eyelashes, tongue swirling along the length of Caleb’s cock, Caleb shuts his eyes and _sobs_. He lifts a hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at the skin as he fights to keep himself quiet, and he holds it there for barely a handful of seconds before Molly is pulling off his cock and reaching up to pull his hand back down.

“Hey now,” Molly says, and he would look innocent were it not for the precum and spittle smeared across his lips, “None of that, alright? I want to hear you. Can you do that for me, love?” The aura of control is still woven throughout his voice, is still clear in his eyes, but somehow, this time, it’s not enough.

Caleb wants to do what Molly tells him to. He truly does, but to be so open, to be open and on display and to be making noise where anyone could hear him... it’s too much for Caleb, and he shakes his head before he realise he’s doing it.

“I _can’t_ ,” he whispers, and feels the tears rolling down his cheeks.

He wants this. He really, really wants, this and he doesn’t know why his brain won’t just let him have this one nice thing for once. Molly is before him, patient and understanding and wonderful and Caleb _knows_ that he is safe, _knows_ that Molly is looking out for him and that the rest of the party wouldn’t care at all if they found out about the two of them, and they fought a beast earlier and none of them even came _close_ to dying and they got more reward money than Caleb has ever seen in his life and he doesn’t know why his brain is so insistent that he shouldn’t having this and he _hates it_.

He lifts his hand again, muffles a sob against his palm, and only opens his eyes when he feels Molly’s hand settle in his.

“Hey,” Molly says, and suddenly the thread of command in his voice is gone, leaving him entirely soft and gentle again. “You with me?”

Caleb pulls in a heaving, gulping breath. “… _Ja_.”

“Good. Can I get a colour?”

“Green.” _Green, green, green_. Gods, Caleb never wants this to end.

Kneeling on the floor before him, Molly smiles. “Good. Are you going to do what I say now?”

Caleb doesn’t know. He wants to, he really does; he desperately wants to give in and give up and forget himself and follow Molly’s words and Molly’s voice and Molly’s commands forever because they make things so _easy_ but he _can’t_.

He has never let himself have simple things.

He glances down at Molly, glances up, fixes his gaze somewhere on the distant wall, and shakes his head.

From somewhere on the floor Molly squeezes Caleb’s hand, just once, and Caleb feels himself start to settle on it like an anchor point. “Caleb,” he says, “Sweetheart. Look at me. Can you look at me?”

He can do that. He does. His eyes sting from tears but Molly is still clear in his vision, purple and lilac and resplendent and _beautiful_.

“Hey,” Molly says, and his thumb brushes against the back of Caleb’s hand. Caleb, unthinkingly, turns his hand in Molly’s, laces their fingers together, and gets a soft smile in return. “Caleb. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” _Unquestionably_.

“So you trust me when I say that I’m gonna look after you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Does this mean that you trust me when I say that I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you?”

It does. Stars help him, but it does. It’s that accursed tiefling intuition he’s heard about getting right to the heart of the issue, because that’s it. _Of course_ that’s it. Even now, even in this room in this inn with his friends a floor below and Molly himself, who has more than proven himself in combat, right there in front of him Caleb is still afraid. Afraid of _what_ he doesn’t know, but the fear is there all the same. It has been for a long time.

The fear, though, has never had a Mollymauk to combat it.

Caleb pulls in another breath, and tries to tell his heart to settle. “…Yeah,” he says, “I trust you.”

Molly squeezes his hand again, and Caleb can’t stop the weak smile that crosses his face. “Good. You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Ready to get back to it?”

“…Yeah.”

“That’s my boy,” Molly says, and between one breath and the next Caleb can see the commanding presence slip back in under Mollymauk’s skin, and he _shivers_. “Caleb,” Molly says, and his gaze is serious and burning and directed entirely at Caleb, “I want to hear you. Can you do that for me?”

He can. For Molly, he can. “…Yes.”

Molly’s resulting grin is almost blinding in it’s brilliance. “Good boy,” he says, and takes Caleb’s cock down to the root.

This time, Caleb lets himself groan. It feels a little strange at first, feels a little false and a little faked even though it really isn’t, but it doesn’t take long for him to start losing himself to the pleasure again because Molly’s mouth around his cock is more than enough to drive any lingering thoughts from Caleb’s head. He swears a little, mumbling the words under his breath, and then lets himself say them again louder. He’s not shouting, is barely even speaking at a normal conversation volume, but for him it’s far, far more than what he normally does.

He thinks he feels Molly smiling around his cock. Everything is heat and warmth and pleasure, and Caleb is _drowning_ in it. It’s all simultaneously too much and not enough and Caleb can feel himself sobbing from how overwhelmed he is, can feel the tears rolling down his face and does absolutely nothing to stop them. He feels like he can’t pull enough air into his lungs and the heat in his gut is burning hotter and brighter, coiling in on itself and reaching tendrils of burning flame through his entire body until Caleb is trembling with want.

And then Molly does something downright _sinful_ with his tongue, and Caleb throws his head back against the wall and moans.

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, “Oh, oh, _Molly_.” He reaches out one hand, aims for hair but finds a horn instead, and holds on as best he can. “ _Molly_ , bitte, bitte…” His fingers feel too weak, grasping desperately at the ridges and grooves of Molly’s horn and tangling in the golden chain that hangs from it and his legs are trembling now, thighs shaking so much that it feels as if Molly’s touch, warm on his hip, is all that’s still keeping him standing.

“ _Molly_ ,” Caleb gasps again, and when Molly pulls back and wraps his mouth only around the head of Caleb’s cock, his hand still stroking along the shaft, Caleb’s entire body jerks. His hand tightens around Molly’s horn, yanking his head forwards, and his hips buck forwards of their own volition, thrusting his cock back into Molly’s mouth.

For one horrifying, heart-stopping second Caleb thinks he’s done something wrong, because no sooner does his hand relax around Molly’s horn than Molly slides off his cock, wipes a hand across his mouth, and looks up at him.

Thankfully, it takes less than a second for Molly to correct this concern.

“You can pull, you know,” Molly says, and he reaches up, moves Caleb’s hand from his horn to his hair in one quick, easy motion.

Caleb gapes. “But- you-“

“If you’re worried about hurting me,” Molly adds, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Would it help if I said I like it?”

It… would. It definitely would. Maybe not enough to convince Caleb to start tugging like a madman, but it’s enough for him to at least be tempted to consider it. He reaches out tentatively, and curls one hand through Molly’s hair. It feels silky-fine against his fingers, light and soft, and it twists his heart to know that he could hurt Molly with this touch, but at the same it feels… good. Caleb presses his fingertips to the curve of Molly’s skull, curls his fingers slightly, pulls his hand back, and Molly _groans_.

“ _Ngh_ , yeah, that’s it.”

“This is okay?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Molly gasps, and he twists his neck, leans away from the touch slightly until Caleb can feel the tension starting to pull at the strands between his fingers, “ _Mm_ , yeah, sure is. Just like that.”

“You like this?” Caleb asks before he can stop himself, and Molly looks up at him with a lazy grin.

“Yeah,” he says, “Do you?”

“…Yes.” He does. He knows he shouldn’t, _feels_ he shouldn’t, but he does. It’s- _nice_ , grounding in a way that Caleb hadn’t expected, and now that his hands are in Molly’s hair he can’t seem to stop himself from running his fingers through it over and over again, twisting strands between his fingers and tugging just until he can feel they have no more slack left for him to pick up.

He runs his hands through Molly’s hair, does it again, and every time his fingers catch and he tugs just a little bit more Molly makes more soft, delighted moans and hums that send heat right down into Caleb’s cock.

It’s… truth be told, it’s almost insanely hot.

Caleb gathers strands between his fingers and tugs again, lightly. He hears Molly’s soft moan, _feels_ it where his palm brushes against Molly’s skull, and when he applies a little more pressure Molly moves without hesitation, following the direction that Caleb cautiously takes him.

“Is this..?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Molly gives the slightest of nods.

“This is good,” he says, “I’ll let you know if anything changes, alright?”

“…Alright.”

“You gonna let me get back to looking after you now?”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, but after a while he lightly, cautiously, twists his fingers to gently nudge Molly’s head back towards his cock. Just as before Molly goes easily, no hesitation or resistance anywhere to be seen, and when his lips seal around the head of Caleb’s cock and he starts sliding down the shaft Caleb does his very best to follow Molly’s earlier instructions and lets himself moan.

This is no gentle build-up anymore; Molly’s sucking his cock like he’s desperate for it, taking him as deep as he can until he starts to gag and then pulling off just enough to catch his breath before he starts the cycle all over again. He still has one hand wrapped around the base of Caleb’s cock, slick with a disgusting mix of spittle and pre-cum but it’s _good_ , it’s filthy and it’s slick and it’s hot and it’s so, so damn good that Caleb can’t seem to catch his breath anymore, can’t seem to do anything except gasp and moan and watch the shape of his cock pressed against Mollymauk’s cheek.

He frees a hand from Molly’s hair and brushes it along the curve of his jaw until it’s resting over Molly’s cheek, and the moment Molly realises what he’s doing he glances up at Caleb with a truly _wicked_ gleam to his eyes and smirks as best he can around his cock. He tilts his head slightly, angles himself so that Caleb can feel his cock pressing against his own palm separated only by Molly’s cheek, and when Molly ducks his head back down, tongue skating maddening patterns along Caleb’s cock, Caleb can feel the very shift of it beneath his palm and it drives him _mad_.

“ _Molly_ ,” he gasps, and feels his fingers in Molly’s hair curl and pull of their own volition. “Molly, I- _please_ …” He’s no longer entirely sure what he’s asking for – he just knows that he _wants_ , wants more and wants Molly and wants to come, wants to finish riding this wave of pleasure and sensation towards its peak. “Molly, I- I need, I’m going to-“

Molly pulls off his cock with a wet _pop_ , and Caleb _sobs_ at the loss.

“Caleb,” Molly says, his voice rough, “Do you want to come in my mouth? Because you can, if that’s what you want.”

Caleb nods immediately. He’s too close now, too far gone to think about things like shame and what he thinks he deserves – he can feel the fire coiling in his gut and knows that he won’t last much longer, and with Molly on his knees before him, openly asking, openly _allowing_ him to do this unspeakable thing, even Caleb’s own shame and self-doubt is not strong enough to stand in the way.

“ _Ja_ ,” he whispers, “ _Ja_ , yes, please.”

Molly smiles, and runs his tongue along his lips. “Good boy,” he says, “Now come for me.”

It’s exactly what Caleb needs. The fine undercurrent of control and command is still hanging beneath Molly’s words, and when he sinks back down around Caleb’s cock all that’s left in Caleb’s mind are those words, that instruction.

That _order_.

“ _Gott_ ,” he whispers, “ _Gott_ , Molly, _Molly, ah-“_

Caleb doesn’t come with a shout, but it’s the loudest he’s ever been. He comes with a muffled whimper instead, the sound bitten off somewhere in his throat, and he feels Molly’s throat convulsing around his cock as he comes. He feels his hands tightening in Molly’s hair, _knows_ that he is pulling too hard, but finds himself unable to do anything about it; every muscle in his body is locked tight in pleasure, his vision turning white as the sensation of his orgasm overtakes him. It feels like he’s _drowning_ in it, lost to sensation and heat and white, burning-hot pleasure, and for a moment he can think of nothing else at all.

When he comes back to himself he finds he’s sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him with a softly smiling lavender tiefling kneeling between them.

“Molly,” Caleb whispers, and reaches out. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s reaching _for_ , and he doesn’t care. He just _wants_ ; he wants Molly, and he wants him close, and he wants him _now_. “Bitte, Molly…”

“Hey,” Molly says, his voice hoarse, and he instantly moves in closer. Caleb manages to curl one hand in the fabric of Molly’s shirt but the contact feels weak and insufficient for what he wants. “Hey there, love.” One of Molly’s hands lifts and settles around the back of Caleb’s neck, and Caleb’s eyes flutter shut at the warmth of it. “How you doing? You alright?”

“Mm…”

Molly laughs quietly and the sound feels distant, despite how close Molly is. Molly is _so close_ – he’s right there, right against Caleb’s skin, and Caleb feels himself sway and start to lean forwards and only smiles to himself when Molly catches him, pulling him in to tuck Caleb’s head against his shoulder. “Hey, dozy,” Molly says, and Caleb smiles a little more, breathes in and smells _Molly_ and _comfort_ and _safe_. “Can I get a colour?”

_A what_? Caleb frowns a little, uncertain for a few seconds before he remembers again. _Oh_. “… _Grün_ ,” he manages, and the word is muffled against Molly’s shoulder. Thankfully, Molly seems to hear it all the same.

“ _Grün,_ ” Molly repeats, “Green. See now why I had you translate them for me?”

“Mm…”

“Feel like speaking at all, love?”

“Mm-mm…”

Molly laughs softly, and it sounds like sunlight in crystals. “Alright then. How about we just stay like this for a bit and then we’ll get you a drink and into bed? Sound good?”

It does. It sounds _brilliant_. Caleb very much doesn’t feel like moving – or speaking – at the moment, and opts instead to show his delight at Molly’s genius idea by pressing closer to him and loosely wrapping an arm around Molly’s waist. He feels Molly’s arm slip down to wrap around his own shoulders, feels his other arm come to settle about his waist, and basks in the sensation when Molly starts running a hand up and down his back in slow, easy strokes. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. He doesn’t know if he ever _has_ felt like this.

He doesn’t try to hunt the possibly non-existent memory down. He lets his thoughts drift, lets the last tiny traces of tension drain from his body, and loses track of time until Molly speaks again.

“Caleb,” Molly says what could be minutes or hours later, “I’m going to go for a moment, alright? I’m - it’s alright, you don’t have to squeeze me like that, love, I’ll be back soon – I’m just going to grab a waterskin for you from my pack and have you drink some, okay? That’s it. I’ll be gone for five seconds, ten _tops_. Count them out. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Caleb frowns, and doesn’t let go of Molly. He doesn’t _want_ Molly to go, even if it is just for a few seconds like he claims. He wants Molly here, wants Molly’s arms to stay wrapped around him like they are currently, and he _doesn’t want Molly to go_.

But he knows that he has to, because, as much as he hates to admit it, he _is_ feeling sort of thirsty, and he knows that if he leaves it like this the feeling will just get worse, and so after a few more seconds of clinging to Molly as best he can he reluctantly loosens his grip and drops his arms.

Molly grins at him.

“Five seconds,” he promises, and stands up. “Start counting… _now_.”

Caleb does. _Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf-_

It’s on the end of the _fünf_ that Molly returns, dropping to his knees in front of Caleb with the promised waterskin in hand. “See?” he says, opening the waterskin and pressing it gently into one of Caleb’s open hands, “I told you I’d be back. Now have a drink. Doesn’t have to be all of it, just enough that you feel-… well, hydrated, I suppose.” He watches as Caleb obediently lifts the skin to his lips and drinks. Even know, even when he knows he no longer actually has to follow Molly’s orders it’s still so, so easy to do just that; Caleb is aware of himself, yes, but only vaguely. He’s not sure he could tell himself to do _anything_. But he can do what Molly tells him to do. He can always do that.

He drinks as much of the water as he feels like, and feels better for it. When he’s done he silently passes the skin back to Molly and gets another swift kiss and a quiet ‘Good boy’ before Molly moves away to put the waterskin back in his pack. He returns a moment later and crouches down on the floor before Caleb, still smiling softly.

“Come on,” he says, and takes both of Caleb’s weak, shaking hands in his own, “Come on, let’s get you into bed and settled, alright?” He tugs, and eventually manages to get Caleb to his feet, but it’s only by supporting his weight with an arm around his waist that Molly is actually able to move him to the bed. Caleb feels _weak_ , wrung out and exhausted and absent, but not in the way he’s used to feeling. When his flashbacks leave him feeling absent it’s different to this; his flashbacks make him feel untethered and unsettled and like the whole world has gone greyscale. This is… different.

For starters, he feels _good_. He’s absent, yes, but it feels _nice_ for once – it feels like he’s floating, soft and warm and comfortable and so, so damn content he thinks he could drown in it. Everything around him feels gentle and fuzzy, warm like sunlight on skin and soft like mist and fog and the touch of Molly’s fingers on the back of his hand. Like the touch of Molly’s hand on his waist now, as he guides him towards the bed at whatever pace Caleb’s worn-soft body is willing to go.

Caleb’s not sure how long it takes, but between one thought and the next he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, Molly still standing before him with Caleb’s hands still held in his own. He blinks, frowning a little, and manages to make himself look up at Molly, who smiles the moment he manages to catch Caleb’s eye.

“Hey, love,” he says softly, and Caleb smiles back. He doesn’t feel like speaking but he wants to show Molly that he heard him somehow, and after a few moments thought he settles on giving one of Molly’s hands a quick squeeze. Molly’s skin is warm against his own, and in the flickering light of the candles the snake tattoo that slinks across the back of his hand almost looks as if it’s alive, coiling across skin and bones and muscle. It’s pretty. Molly’s pretty. Molly’s pretty and he’s looking at Caleb like he wants to say more, and so Caleb forces himself to pull his attention away from the gorgeous, _gorgeous_ tattoo on Molly’s hand and instead focus on the tiefling before him.

“I’m going to get you comfortable, alright?” Molly asks, and Caleb nods. Comfortable sounds nice. Comfortable sounds good. “But I can’t do that if you’ve still got your boots and coat on. Can you take them off yourself?”

_Probably not_. Caleb’s limbs still feel heavy, weighed down with lead and honey and milk, and the thought of having to move more than he already has makes him want to curl into himself all over again. He lifts his shoulders in a shrug and then shakes his head a moment later, and when his gaze resettles on Molly he can see that Molly’s still smiling before he leans in to press a quick kiss to Caleb’s forehead. The kiss makes Caleb smile too. It’s nice. Molly is nice, and his kisses are nice, and Caleb actually feels nice in himself for the first time in… in a very long time.

“Alright,” Molly says, and his voice is so soft and kind and _caring_ that Caleb wants to wrap himself up in it, wants to discard his coat and replace it with Molly’s voice instead and fall asleep in the safety of his words. “Is it okay if I take them off for you then?”

“ _Ja_.” Yes, definitely.

“Oh!” Molly says, and he sounds surprised and delighted all at once. “Well, would you look at that. I thought that cat had got your tongue there.”

Caleb frowns. “Frumpkin is… Frumpkin is not here,” he says, and Molly laughs. Molly’s laugh is wonderful.

“I know,” he says, “It’s a figure of speech, sweetheart.” Molly kisses Caleb’s forehead again and then kneels down, still laughing quietly, and starts untying the laces of Caleb’s boots.

It doesn’t take long for Molly to get Caleb sufficiently stripped for bed, which is honestly a bit of a miracle considering how absolutely useless Caleb’s being. He still can’t find it in himself to move and instead just watches, shifting a little as needed but beyond that doing nothing to help the disrobing process. It’s of little matter, though – Molly doesn’t seem to mind, instead offering quiet praise as he methodically removes the outer layers of Caleb’s clothes, and by the time he’s finished to his liking Caleb is feeling soft and floaty and absolutely boneless. He’s swaying a little where he sits on the edge of the bed, gazing absently at the opposite wall, and when Molly pushes on his shoulder he goes easily, lying back on the bed and curling up on his side. Molly reaches out to tug the blanket over him, wrapping it safe and secure around Caleb’s shoulders, and when his hand brushes Caleb’s cheek Caleb turns his head into the contact.

He feels _safe_ , more than anything. He’s warm and content and happy and all of those are very nice feelings, but most of all he just feels safe, secure in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He feels safe with Molly, in Molly’s presence or by Molly’s side or most of all in Molly’s arms, and it doesn’t take more than few seconds of dwelling on those thoughts for Caleb to come to a decision.

“Molly?” he asks, lifting his head off the pillow a little so that he can see the tiefling in question, “Could you… would you stay with me?” His voice is hoarse and quiet, but it’s enough – Molly looks over at him from where he was folding Caleb’s clothing into neat bundles, and Caleb watches the smile spread across his face.

“I was going to offer anyway,” Molly replies, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how cuddly you are after a few mugs of ale.” He wastes no time in shucking off his coat and boots and shirt and breeches, and when he climbs into bed in just his smallclothes Caleb is quick to roll over and press himself against Molly’s side. He feels no shame now in tucking himself under Molly’s arm and burrowing in closer – he wants Molly, and he trusts him, and he knows that if he were to do anything that Molly wasn’t happy with that Molly would let him know. It seems though that Molly is completely fine with Caleb latching onto his side like a limpet – if anything he actively seems to _enjoy_ it, lifting his spare hand to start playing with Caleb’s hair the moment Caleb’s sufficiently settled, and it feels- it feels-

It feels _goddamn amazing_.

Caleb thinks he understands now why cats purr.

“You were very good for me tonight,” Molly says, and Caleb can’t stop the happy little smile that spreads across his face in response to the praise, “Did you know that?”

He didn’t, but he does now. He feels more than he hears Molly’s quiet laugh.

“ _Very_ good,” Molly repeats, and Caleb squirms a little in delight, turns his head to hide his smile against Molly’s chest. “Really, darling – you were _exemplary_. I’m very proud of you.”

_Proud_. There aren’t many people in the world who are proud of Caleb, and he knows that only too well. He hasn’t done much in his life to be proud of, not with- well, not with everything his past entails, but right now it’s so, so easy to forget that, because Molly is proud of him. Molly thinks he did well. Molly thinks Caleb was _wonderful_ and _good_ and _exemplary_ , and the quiet praise makes Caleb feel warm all over.

Molly is proud of him, and that’s all that matters.

Caleb takes the word and tucks it close to his heart. _Proud_.

Beneath his cheek, Molly is still talking. “Wonderful,” he’s saying, his voice quiet and soft like he’s not sure if Caleb’s awake or not, and Caleb only realises then that at some point his eyes had slipped shut. He doesn’t open them. He’s too comfortable, too relaxed and happy and content, and for once he doesn’t feel like he has to sleep with one eye open, doesn’t feel like he has to stand and wind his silver thread about the room. It’s unspeakably nice. Molly is unspeakably nice. Scratch that- Molly is wonderful, for all he keeps on saying that Caleb is; Molly is wonderful and patient and so much kinder than Caleb has ever deserved.

He still doesn’t feel like he deserves this kindness, not really, but in his sleepy, exhausted, worn-out and utterly relaxed state he feels a tiny bit closer to it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and turns his head to press a sleepy kiss to Molly’s collarbone. He feels Molly’s quiet chuckle through his chest, and smiles a little wider when he feels Molly’s hand tuck a few stray strands of hair behind his ear.

“Go to sleep, Caleb,” Molly says fondly, and even with his eyes shut Caleb can hear the smile in his voice.

“Mm, okay...” Caleb mumbles in reply, and feels the fond kiss that Molly presses to the top of his head.

“Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah…”

“We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”

Caleb snuggles in closer, and lets sleep take him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good ^^
> 
> Also, if you have any prompts or requests for me please do send me a message over at my [tumblr!](https://crunchywrites.tumblr.com/)


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